


My Love

by Shes-claws-deep (CyrilOdahviing)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Collars, Cuddling, F/M, Femdom, Gentle femdom, PIV Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Praise Kink, dom!reader, soft loving, sub!baptiste
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 15:20:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18096923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyrilOdahviing/pseuds/Shes-claws-deep
Summary: Written for AurumStultorum on tumblr~ Baptiste has been through a lot in his life, so why not give him some soft, gentle touches and praise that is rightly deserved? (small) Mentions of past trauma.





	My Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurumstultorum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurumstultorum/gifts).



“My love! What is this?” Baptiste’s voice startles you out of your near meditative state. He hurries over, dumping his gear by the door before he barrels into your back, doing his best to squash you with his chest in his eagerness to look over your head.

Laughing, you topple over and let him lay his grabby hands at the collar you were cleaning in your hand. “Just some things you mentioned you wanted to try. I haven’t used these in a while so I thought I should spare you the dust rashes and give them a clean.”

Baptiste grins widely, rubbing that beard on your forehead. “Why, thank you!” His sharp eyes catch the other goodies laid out before him and he feels a bubble of excitement well up in his chest. Excitement and no small amount of anxiety. He hasn’t touched rope since…well. It’s been a while, to say the least, and the last time he did it wasn’t a good memory. But with you…with you, this will be a good memory. He’s sure of it. “How about we see if you’ve cleaned them enough, my love?”

“Cheeky boy,” you chirp and tap his cheek. “Get rid of your clothes first.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Baptiste salutes and pushes himself up, his hands raising behind his neck to grasp at the collar of his shirt when you stop him with a single finger to his belly.

“Slowly.” You lick your lips and let lust darken your gaze. “And do it on your knees.”

Baptiste’s breath whooshes out of his lungs. “Yes, my love.” He can’t drop to his knees fast enough. Instinct tells him to strip quickly, to bare himself for you so that you can touch him. But his brain tells him to slow down, to make you desire him more and more until you’re the one to pounce on him and ravage him senseless. Yes, yes, that would be the better option.

So he slows down, tugging at the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head slowly, sensually, making sure he flexes his abdominal muscles to emphasise his eight pack abs. Oh, he knows exactly how much you like them. If he didn’t know, your tiny moan and soft mutters confirm his thoughts.

“God, fuck, you look so hot like that. Look at your abs baby, perfection,” you moan, leaning back and squeezing your thighs tight. “I want to ride those washboard abs till they’re soaking, one day.”

“That could be today, my love,” Baptiste growls seductively, dropping his shirt to the side and working on his belt and pant buttons. He dips the waistline of his trousers seductively, showing the lean line of his hips and that tantalising glimpse of a dark happy trail leading to your favourite place. The deep V of his Adonis belt is prominent, the unbroken line revealing that he decided to go commando today.

You bite your lip and rake your gaze over his well-muscled body, enjoying how he looks with his trousers riding low on his hips and his thumbs hooked into the hem. “Oh, you’re tempting me, Baptiste. You’re really tempting me.”

“Ah, my love, I’ll convince you to ravish me, yet!” Throwing down his challenge, he turns around and bends over as he takes off his pants, gyrating his hips from side to side as though wriggling out of those pesky clothes. Bit by bit, he reveals his toned ass and thighs, the forbidden star of his asshole and his dark balls squished between his legs. Then he straightens up and tugs them over his hips again, turning around to flash you a bright smile.

Unamused and incredibly horny, you growl and haul him close by the head, stealing a rough kiss as you shove at his trousers with a free hand. “Naked. Now.”

With a triumphant grin, Baptiste scrambles to strip himself of the remainder of his clothes, leaving him bare before you with nothing but a smug smile on his face. “My love-” He’s cut off by your hand as you fondle his cock gently, lovingly, your previous aggression melted away by how breathtaking he is when not a stitch covers him.

Powerful, chiselled muscles. Dark, silky smooth skin with its paler scars. Curly hair matching the colour on his head covers his chest and legs in a fine coat, soft and smooth to the touch like thin fur. You can’t get enough of touching him, of admiring him from afar and close up like this. His cock is thick in your hand, hardening and growing thicker in your grasp as you caress him slowly, lovingly.

Baptiste’s head rolls back on his shoulders, his mouth dropping open in a soft moan as you continue to stroke his cock. “Ah, my love, I’ve missed your touch.” His hands cover your knees and he caresses you with his thumbs, spasming every time your hand comes up to stroke the head of his cock. “Oh yes~”

“I gave you a handjob just this morning, you greedy gus.”

He smirks and leans close, kissing you shakily on the cheek as you squeeze his tip real tight. “Oo-ah~But you didn’t – nnngh – didn’t let me cum this morning, my love,” he purrs, rocking his hips against your hand. There is an urge to cover your hand with his, to quicken your speed and increase the pleasure floating in his body, but he’s content like this. At the mercy of your desire and your authority. He does, however, nip at your jaw. “Will I have one tonight?”

You take your hand away and stand up, tipping his chin up so you can smile down at him, a mean tinge to your expression. “Hmm, we’ll see. Take my clothes off and I’ll think about it.”

“Yes, my love.” There’s that breathless quality to his silky voice again, his breath roughening as he slips his head under your shirt, using the top of his head to push the fabric up so he can kiss at your belly. His thin beard and moustache tickle you ever so slightly, feathering across your skin as he presses little butterfly kisses all over where he can reach. By the time he reaches up to pull your shirt over your head, he’s kissed every inch of your belly and the tops of your breasts over your bra.

When he’s stopped by the soft cotton of your bra, he looks up at you between the hills of your breasts with his lips still pressed to your sternum. “May I take off your bra, my love?” His fingers are already creeping up your back, tracing the hooks and eyes.

You rub at his bicep and tut at the feeling of his fingers already curling around the straps. “You may.”

With a grin, he undoes your bra with ease, slipping the straps off your shoulders and throwing it behind him. Now that your breasts are free he goes wild over them, his huge arms wrapping around you and holding you close so that he can lick and suck all over them. One hand sneaks back around to cup the bottom of one, lifting it and angling your nipple right to his mouth. He’s not quiet as he slurps and kisses you, moaning and groaning when he suckles at your nipple with gusto.

Now it’s your turn to tilt your head back and bite back a whimper, arching your back and hugging his head to keep him close. You don’t need to though, Baptiste has no intention of doing anything other than worshipping your breasts. It’s only when one boob is completely soaked in saliva and covered in hickeys that he moves on to the other, giving it the same amount of attention as he did the first.

He likes the underside of your breasts, sucking on it while looking up at you through his lashes and grinning when he sees the dazed look in your eyes. “Am I convincing you yet, my love?”

“Mmm, just a little more would do you good. But I’m not naked yet, get to it,” you purr back at him, a moan leaking out when he bites down gently on your boob.

Baptiste, as preoccupied as he is with your breasts, pouts and obeys nevertheless. He keeps his lips locked around your areola even while his talented hands work at your bottoms, sucking and pulling with his head so you brace yourself on his strong shoulders. How considerate of him. At least, until he moans and slurps at your breast again, knocking you a little off balance so you lean more on him.

“Hey!” It would be sterner if you weren’t also breathless and if he wasn’t also sliding your panties down your legs. “Focus.”

Your lover snickers, his pupils blown wide open. “It is hard when I’m so distracted,” he murmurs against your skin, but obeys and separates from you with a pop so he can take your panties off proper. He does, however, get distracted by your pussy; darting in to sneak a taste with a stroke of his tongue before you push him away.

“Not yet.”

He pouts, shuffling on his knees to close the distance again. This time, he clambers on top of the bed to follow you as you scramble to the headboard. “Please?” He begs. “Don’t be mean, my love~” Rubs his hands over your legs where he can reach and kissing up your legs. “I’ll be a good boy.” His movements get more catlike as he crawls further up to you, his back arching and his head dipping to rest on your hip.

He’s already saying he’ll be a good boy? Well, if he isn’t already, you’re going to make him into the bestest boy, the goodest boy you’ve ever had. With one hand laid on his head, you snag his collar with your free hand, dangling it from your fingers with a smile. “You want to be a good boy?”

Slow, deliberate nodding. “Yes, my love.”

“Then come up here and tilt your chin up.”

He obeys with sinuous grace, fitting his body between your legs so he can bring his neck closer to you. Now in the perfect position, he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. Like this, he can focus on the cool leather and your warm hands, both sliding closed around his neck. Not like a noose, rather like a warm scarf. Those eyes pop open, however, when he feels you start buckling it loosely. “My love, it could be tighter.”

Now it’s your turn to have your eye snap up to it. “Could it?” Your own way of asking if it’s okay.

Baptiste takes a moment to close his eyes and take in a deep breath. Takes a moment to let the warmth and safety of the collar to settle in his chest before he opens his dark eyes, giving you that cocksure grin. “Trust me, my love, any looser and you could slip it off my head. Tighten it. Please?”

To think that when you started all those months ago, you couldn’t even wrap your hand around his neck without him flinching. Now, he’s the one asking you to make his collar snug around his throat. So that’s exactly what you do, cooing praises all the while. When you fasten the buckle around the right hole, you kiss his lips as you slide the leather through. “You look so handsome like this. With my collar around your neck. Showing everyone you’re mine.” Two fingers slip under the leather right quick, giving it a check, but then you twist your hand so you can pull him closer like that. “My pretty boy.”

The move brings him up flush against your body, his cock resting against your pussy lips and his chest and belly pressing up right into yours. Baptiste can only moan in response, his arms shifting by your side as he props himself up so he won’t crush you. God, you’re perfect. So so perfect. He can feel your fingers shifting until it’s cupping the back of his neck, right where a scar lies; can feel your fingertips swirling around the raised flesh until he’s shivering and putty in your arms. He normally hates that his scars are so sensitive, but right now he’s grateful for them. Grateful for the remnants of suffering that bring him so much pleasure now.

“Mmmm, my love,” he moans into your mouth, his lips trembling from want. He wants more. More of you. His cock aches from the wetness he can feel on the underside of his hardness, so desperate for stimulation that he starts rocking his hips in time to the circles you’re swirling on his neck. “Nnngh, I love it when you do this to me.”

Already tumbling through domspace, you sharpen your gaze enough to pull away from his lips long enough to bite just under his ear. “And what is it that I do to you? Say it, Jean-Baptiste.”

Your lover, your submissive, shakes over you and slumps his weight onto your chest as his arms give in, winding around your back and your waist instead. He whines from the sting of your bite, moans at the soothing tongue that laves over it after. Ruts his hips when you drag your fingers down his spine and dig into the dimples of his back. “I-I love it when you make me feel,” he moans breathlessly, “owned. Loved. Protected.” His knees shift and shuffle, until he has one thigh under yours so he can slot your bodies in perfectly. “I feel warm. Floaty. Like…like I’m in a healing beam.”

“Oh yeah?” Now it’s your turn to feel warm and floaty, and you’re determined to make him melt even more. Slipping one hand between your bodies, you make sure to rasp past his nipples in your journey to his crotch. And just like that, he moans your name even before you touch his needy, leaking cock. “When do you feel the most floaty, hmm?”

“When you-you call me a good boy~” His answer comes immediately, almost stuttered, although maybe it’s more because you’re finally angling his cock into your pussy. “Oh, my love~” On instinct, his hips arch forward to help you sink his sizeable dick into your soaking depths. Bit by bit, he slips inside you, rocking back and forth until you accept all of him.

You’re too busy panting, trying to drag enough air into your lungs to weather his monster cock that seems to spear up into your stomach to notice that Baptiste is drooling a little onto your chest. When you do focus your eyes on him, though, you can see that his eyes have gone all crazy. They both roll into his head one by one and return to normal one by one, both blown wide with desire that they’re pitch black. Baptiste’s body is trembling against you, his other leg coming up and bringing him to a kneeling position between your legs. And that gorgeous mouth? That gorgeous mouth is hanging open in the loudest moan you’ve ever heard from him. A moan that’s just a long, drawn out version of your name.

And then, when he’s fully seated inside you balls deep, he whimpers and drops his head onto your chest in a jolt. Almost like he had an out of body experience and just fell back down to earth. “A-aaahhh.” A groan this time, also particularly loud but it sounds like he’s got his mind back, if only a little. “M-may I move, my love?” His hips are already rocking back and forth slightly, like little waves licking at the shore, but hardly enough to be called thrusting.

Rather than give him verbal permission, you grab a loose hank of rope and loop it around the seat of his thighs like makeshift reigns. A jerk and a pull and Baptiste gets the message, speeding up his rocking hips and deepening his strokes until he’s sinking the entire length of his cock in you with every thrust. It’s not fast, it’s not hard, it’s hardly a pounding, but it feels so much better than any rough fucking you’ve ever had.

Baptiste, too, seems to agree, because he drops his head to your breasts once more, mouthing at the flesh mindlessly, heavy pants heating up your skin. His hands flitter between your thighs and your back, his blunt nails scratching up your skin and digging into the meat of the back of your knee as he hauls you closer with brute strength. The lust-addled yelp he rips from you is exactly what he wants to hear, especially when he did it on an upstroke that buries him hilt deep at the same time.

Your eyes water and your hands tighten on the rope, fists pulling them over his ass so firmly until you could swear that it made an indentation on those firm globes. Baptiste takes that as a sign to go harder, to go faster, until the slapping of your bodies is ringing in both your ears. Until your knees snap around his waist and you growl at him to start touching your clit. To make you cum.

He whimpers into your breast, his head buried in your cleavage, and he manages to lift his stomach high enough so he can jam a hand between you, his thumb going as fast as he dares in quick little circles over your sopping clit. Faster than his strokes, strokes that start to become arhythmic as he grows closer to his end.

“M-my love,” he gasps against your nipple. “Please! Please, I-” His hips start to stutter.

“Make me cum, good boy, come on, make me cum!” You grit out through clenched teeth, bucking against him and rolling your hips so he can hit you in that spot. “Yes! Yesyesyes, oh baby, baby, you got it, you’re so good, ye-aaaaa!” Your orgasm hits you like a mack truck, a mind-wiping rush that takes out every sense with it. Your back arches, your knees clamp around his waist, and you cum hard around his thick cock that’s still fucking you through the throes of your climax.

The slick sound of his cock sinking into your sopping, cumming pussy will be stuck in his mind for ages to come, will fuel his masturbation fantasies for just as long. Baptiste almost sobs when you fall limp under him and grow quiet. He needs to cum so badly, he’s so close he can taste it, but he just can’t cum without your permission. He really, honestly can’t. Not even as he ruts into you through your milking muscles. “My love, please, please let me cum. May I cum, my love, please!” He kisses your neck and up to your ear, muttering pleas even while his hips keep smacking into yours. Oh god, please tell him he can cum.

It’s not his voice that spurs you into action, rather the pleasurable pain of overstimulation in your most tender spot. Dragging your rubbery arms around him, you clamp one hand over the back of his neck and the other on his shoulder as you purr into his ear, “Cum for me, good boy.”

A sound not unlike a dying groan escapes him as he cums on command, his hips mashing so hard against yours that you’re sure you’ll get a bruise there tomorrow. He wraps his arms around you, squeezing tight, holding you still so he can slam his hips into you three more times as he cums deep inside your pussy. Once it’s all over, he whimpers breathlessly into your ear as he slumps on top of you. He’s boneless. He can’t move. God, he feels like he’s floating.

For what feels like an eternity, he lies atop you, his face buried into your neck as he bellows heated breaths against your skin, his back rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. Your legs are limp around his sides, your hands idly caressing his marked up back and neck, landing on his collar every now and then. Inside you, his cock goes limp and shrinks enough that he slides out of you without even moving, leaving you feeling just a little colder and emptier. Aching.

Baptiste closes his eyes and relaxes further, his already boneless slump becoming heavier as he slips closer to unconsciousness. His arms are still around you, spanning your back and your thigh, keeping him anchored to you as he floats in a warm, cosy abyss. It might be dark to him now but he’s not lonely. Far from it. If he could stay here forever, he could. But if not, he would have this night.

You, on the other hand, stir just a little, enough to grab at a wet towel you prepped earlier. One hand lands on his back to stop him from moving, to keep him limp against you, as you wipe him down as best you can without moving him. He deserves to rest and not have his trip through subspace to be interrupted. You’ll help him come down once he’s ready to return back to solid ground.

In the meantime, you stroke the towel over his face and his back in long, comforting strokes, humming a tune you used to hear when you were younger. When you’ve done all you could, you go back to hugging his head and back to you and nestle down to rest, your cheek against his temple. “Rest now, my good boy. I’ve got you.”

Baptiste smiles softly, kissing the skin he can reach. “Thank you... I-My love.” Not yet. Soon.


End file.
